


Bluebeard

by Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Past Character Death, Past Lives, Past Relationship(s), Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 09:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw/pseuds/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw
Summary: There was one room on the TARDIS the Doctor had forbidden her to visit.Naturally, that made it the room she most wanted to visit.





	Bluebeard

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by imaginary_golux and infinite_regress

When the Doctor had welcomed her aboard the TARDIS full-time, he had given her a guided tour of the ship. Or, parts of it, anyway. Clara got the distinct impression that the TARDIS stretched out for particularly large values of infinity. Not that she would have minded spending longer on the tour, letting him try to explain such mysteries as the self-repair mechanism and why there was a disco ball in the conservatory.

There was one enigma he had deliberately refused to answer, one door he had literally refused to open for her. He had, in fact, hung a slate from a nail and printed the word “PRIVATE” on it, and then told her that she must never enter this room. She could have the run of the rest of the ship, he had told her, save for this one room. She was free to visit the library (filled with forbidden knowledge), his bedroom (more than once), and even the conservatory with the disco ball.

Naturally, this made it the one room in the entire TARDIS she wanted to see most. There were plenty of distractions, of course, involving the Doctor and otherwise. But the thought returned to her, again and again, like a gnawing, prickling feeling, hot at the back of her neck.

Finally, she had her chance: the Doctor was up to his bony elbows in the entrails of the TARDIS, repairing her internal monitoring protocols. It would take him a few hours to finish the fixes, and then he would have to shower off the effluvia from the repairs. Plenty of time to see whatever the hell was behind that door, steal away without him noticing, and then meet him in the shower to distract him from her whereabouts with sex. And since it was the ship’s surveillance that was on the fritz, hopefully the old cow couldn’t betray her.

Still, she tiptoed as she neared the odd little door. “Nothing to be afraid of,” she whispered. “If it was really dangerous, he have told me, or put up some kind of safety provision.” Usually she couldn’t stand his bloody “duty of care” but she couldn’t imagine that he’d rely on a bit of wood planking to seal away something like a fusion reactor or a pack of wild space-wolves. No, the only thing likely to be harmed was his trust. Clara shook her head.

“Just one peek. Don’t touch anything,” she reminded herself. Surely he wouldn’t be able to tell that she had _breathed_ in the room, even with those piercing eyes. She turned the sign around anyway, then checked the door.

It was unlocked. “Can’t be that secret,” she muttered before stilling her breath and entering.

The room was filled with an odd mishmash of items. Photographs and scrapbooks. A bright red scarf. A plain silver aerosol can. A few books. Some scraps of gold foil. A sporran, hanging from the back of a chair. A flimsy lavender skirt. A maroon leather jacket. 

Clara fought a gasp as it dawned on her what this room must be, as she recognized faces and items from stories he’d told her. She backed out slowly, closed the door, and turned the sign back around. Her fingers shook as she brushed a tear from her eye. This was too much to see, too intimate in its banality. Each item a beloved memory, kept carefully preserved for years. For centuries. Did he come here often? If he did, was it to sulk or to rejoice? Even after seeing him naked, this was some hidden vulnerability she had never anticipated. He was no mountain range; he was a volcano, capable of lying dormant for eons, passion smouldering beneath to erupt given the right provocation.

Would some piece of her wind up here, secreted away, when she, too, had...moved on? Some memento of their time together? She could hope. Was that egotistical? Probably. She was all out of fucks to give for right now, though. She had to swallow the fact that the Doctor had a room full of memorabilia from his best friends, a room he had trusted her to keep secret. “I can do this,” she reassured herself. “He never needs to know.” She wasn’t sure she believed it. She went to find the Doctor in the bathroom anyway.


End file.
